


shattersoul

by rhymeswithpi



Series: limit break [23]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Headcanon, Introspection, M/M, iggy is a bit of a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymeswithpi/pseuds/rhymeswithpi
Summary: Slipping away from the others had been simple, once they’d finally made it back to the station. He’d just wanted a shower, a change of clothes, anything to get the filth of the swamp off his skin and leave the knowledge of how easily they could have died behind.





	shattersoul

**Author's Note:**

> Pardon me while I stumble back into the fandom four months later. I didn't even bring Starbucks.

It wasn’t his intent to sit in the Regalia, really. All he’d wanted was a quiet place to sit and think, a chance to process the things he’d heard while lurking in corners, the unassuming blind man. Impressive, really, what people will think of you when you aren’t able-bodied. He’s blind, not deaf, but that doesn’t stop anyone from spilling secrets while he’s in the room. What had started as a simple desire to sit with a terrible cup of coffee in the dining car had turned into a routine, sitting with his back to a wall and listening to the scattered news reports on the radio.

This is what he can do, if nothing else. He may not be able to see what’s coming, gets in the way more than he helps in a fight, but at least he can still _listen_. He can be ears where people don’t expect them, hear things he’s not meant to hear.

Some of it is senseless gossip. Alright, fine, _most_ of it is senseless gossip. He’s heard far more than he cares to about how some woman thinks her partner is more interested in the server than he is in her. Granted, she yells about it so publicly it would be a full-on miracle if the entire train didn’t know about it by now.

There’s whispers, now and then, between cups of coffee and bites of what he can only assume are mashed peas. Night is coming earlier, daemons are growing stronger, dawn coming later and later by the day. Storm clouds on the horizon, a blizzard in the pass after Tenebrae. Ravus sentenced to death.

It’s something he can do. It may not be much, but it has to be enough.

Slipping away from the others had been simple, once they’d finally made it back to the station. He’d just wanted a shower, a change of clothes, _anything_ to get the filth of the swamp off his skin and leave the knowledge of how easily they could have died behind. The odds of them all surviving this trip to the heart of the Empire are slim, really, and he can’t afford himself the luxury of worrying about it. Not when there’s always someone hovering nearby, not when they need him to keep it together so _they_ can constantly fall apart.

He thinks he should feel bad, knows the others will worry about him once they realise he’s not with them. They only have his safety in mind. He _knows_ that, knows they don’t want him getting hurt again, knows there’s a desperate need to keep him where they can make sure he’s not dead or dying, but he hasn’t had a moment to himself since waking up in Altissia. He’s far from a delicate flower; his training had seen to that. Pity they’d never prepared him for something like losing his sight.

A bit of time alone was all he’d wanted, honestly, once he’d stepped out of the tiny shower, and the gods only know when he’ll have another chance to sit by himself and process everything that’s happened. Either no one had noticed he was missing, or they’d opted to just let him be for a change. Likely the former, really.

The dining car was tempting, a cup of terrible coffee and something masquerading as a cheese pastry, but everything is so _loud_ out in the main cars, and there’s a lot to take in. Too many voices complaining about the delays, more muttering about the storm in the mountains that hasn’t shown a single sign of breaking up. The train hasn’t even started moving yet, won’t leave until the morning.

If morning even comes, that is.

So he’d ended up in the cargo hold, didn’t realise he was in the car with the Regalia until he’d bashed his shin into it - really, the cane is _useless_ \- and hadn’t thought anything of it until he was sitting in the driver’s seat, hands inches from the steering wheel.

Which is where he’s sitting now, has been for an unknown amount of time, unable to figure out what he’s doing there or even why the Regalia is so comforting. He misses the long hours of driving, sure, but the idiots he calls his closest friends were _terrible_ road trip companions. He still thinks it’s something of a miracle none of them _died_ on any of the ridiculous stunts they pulled.

All of that ended when they set sail from Caem, though. Whatever this… _thing_ he might’ve had with Noct was, it died with Luna.

Not that Noct was ever going to be anything more than his charge.

It’s for the best, he decides. Noct has enough to worry about without looking after a blind man. It will make it easier for them both if - _when_ he has to leave, when his blindness becomes too much of a liability for him to selfishly insist on staying with Noct. Noct will eventually have to marry _someone_ , in the event they all make it out of this somehow. There’s a royal bloodline to continue, and even blind he can see it’s not his place to prevent that.

His hands fall back to his lap, limp against his thighs. These aren’t even his pants, he realises, just whatever pair smelled the least vile. He can’t even _dress_ himself, and yet he can’t let go of this desperate need to be with his friends - with _Noct_ \- as long as possible. Even if he does step aside, bow out of this, where could they possibly leave him? Nowhere is safe these days, not with the encroaching night and daemons growing increasingly bolder.

This train of thought is going nowhere useful any time soon, and no one’s even there to appreciate the terrible pun.

It’s quiet, quiet in a way it hasn’t been since they started this gods-forsaken road trip, and he’s _tired_. No one’s there to keep him up with their snoring, no stench of unwashed feet assaulting every one of his senses. He leans back in the seat, wonders just what the inside of this train _looks_ like. He almost misses Prompto humming constantly. It was something to focus on other than his own mind, if nothing else.

Not that this isn’t a nice break. He knows they don’t mean any harm in their hovering, knows they’re just worried about him. By now they’ve likely realised he’s slipped off on his own, probably started panicking at his absence. It’s not like he didn’t announce his intentions, and he did do exactly what he said he would. There’s not even that many places he _could_ be hiding, really.

The seat is comfortable, _safe_ somehow, the only home he really has now that Insomnia has fallen and everything he’s known has been turned upside down, ripped from him in the most painful ways possible. He’s tired, tired in a way he hasn’t been in years.

There’s a soft sigh, and it seems his time alone has come to an end. Someone’s found him - Noct, by the sound of their footsteps. The car door opens and they settle into the passenger seat. A hand finds his, squeezes gently, and the unspoken _is this okay_ doesn’t need to be said as Noct leans into his shoulder.

Maybe he can’t manage to find his own pants. He’ll probably never drive this car again. If somehow they all live through this, he has nothing left to offer the Crown. There’s no use for a broken man, there won’t be a happy ending like the fairy tales he was told as a small child. Right now, none of that matters. He’ll just have to keep stealing little moments like these, moments that aren’t meant to be his. What happens next is something he’ll have time for later.

  



End file.
